Work Text:
“This fucking sucks,” Jeanne Alter snarled, walking along the corridor. “I can’t believe we lost the base! Now we’re all stuck cooped up in this place.”
“It’s happened before, and now things are equipped so that we still have enough magical energy to have all of us manifest outside of missions,” Artoria Alter said, voice cool, hand buried in a bag of potato chips. “Complaining will solve nothing. Rather, you should be content things are not worse.”
“Yeah, great fucking advice!” Jeanne Alter snarled. “Just because I’m not dead in a ditch, I’m not allowed to express even a tiny bit of frustration with my circumstances! Fucking genius!” As the two passed along a massive window, bright light shining into the hallway, Jeanne Alter shivered, raising a hand to block the light on her. “There are too many Servants here now for us to feel comfortable in this tiny ass submarine! At least back in the Wandering Sea people would know to leave you the hell alone, but here?! We don’t even get our own damn bedrooms anymore because we’re so starved for space!”
“How amusing,” Artoria Alter said, with a completely blank face. “Being a roommate to the king is a privilege, mad dog. You should count your blessings that one such as yourself can claim to share anything with me.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Jeanne Alter snarled. “Don’t act like you aren’t getting stir-crazy yourself, ice bitch.”
“Perhaps… but unlike you, I know how to occupy myself.”
Jeanne opened her mouth to spit out another insult in response to that, but found herself interrupted by a wave of shrill shouting as the two were about to walk around the corner. Jeanne Alter clapped her hands over her ears and let out a pained snarl at the sound, while Artoria Alter only raised an eyebrow.
“Tray! You damned tyke, get the hell back here or I swear I’ll-!” The voice screeched, getting closer and closer. Jeanne Alter let out an indignant yell and stepped back as something tore around the corner, rushing between her legs before she was able to see what it was.
Only a moment afterward, a person ran around the corner at full speed, letting out an alarmed cry as she, too late, processed what was in front of her. The woman ran headfirst into Artoria Alter’s chestplate, a loud clang ringing out. Even Jeanne Alter found herself flinching as the woman slowly slid down and collapsed onto the ground, while Artoria, not having moved an inch from the head-on collision, looked down with a bemused expression.
“What the hell?” Jeanne Alter muttered, looking down over the crumpled Servant on the ground. The woman’s auburn braided ponytail sat off to the side haphazardly. She stared up at the ceiling, dazed, and Jeanne Alter swore there were swirls in her eyes. Her mouth hung open stupidly as she babbled, revealing teeth a bit too sharp to belong to a normal person.
“Well, well,” Artoria Alter said, crouching down. “What do we have here…?”
Jeanne Alter watched on, wrinkling her nose, as Artoria Alter raised her hand, dematerializing her gauntlet, and snapped her fingers. The auburn-haired woman shot upwards, looking around erratically as she stayed sitting.
“Ah? What, what is…?” She said, before her eyes locked onto Artoria crouching in front of her, looking her directly in the eye.
Jeanne Alter looked on in disgust as the woman’s face immediately began to pink.
“Now then, do you care to explain yourself?” Artoria Alter said, commanding tone.
“I-I’m very sorry, miss! You see, my dog, Tray, he was tearing around the Storm Border here and making a mess of things…” The woman trailed off as she looked Artoria directly in the eyes, noticing their unnatural yellow glow and slit pupils, alongside the dark scales across her cheeks. “Dr- dr- dragon…” She stuttered, odd tone to her voice.
“Oh?” Artoria Alter raised an eyebrow. “I see you’ve got a good eye. Indeed, I am the tyrant king, the dark dragon. It’s good to see someone with good enough instincts to immediately notice their place beneath me.”
“You…” The woman said, almost breathless. “You are… are you King Arthur…?!”
Artoria Alter’s face shifted into the closest approximation of a proud smile that she was capable of. “An astute one, I see. And based on your accent, I can count you amongst my subjects… but I do not believe we have met before. Have you only been summoned recently?”
“Yes!” The woman almost shouted in response. “My name’s Mary Anning, my king! I’m a paleontologist from Lyme Regis! When it comes to ancient reptiles, I’m the best at digging them up there is! Hahaha… If you want, I’d be more than willing to give ya a demonstration of what my fingers can do…~”
Jeanne Alter cringed from disgust at the blatant innuendo. Artoria Alter, on the other hand, kept her face stone still as always, not betraying what she thought of the crude comment.
“A paleontologist… a fossil collector…?” Artoria Alter intoned. “I see… that is no good at all.”
Mary Anning froze, smile remaining on her face even as she paled. “Ah?”
“A king has little use for such a position in their court. Fossil collectors have little in the way of money, fossils themselves are worth little as treasures, and they are ill-equipped for the battlefield.”
Jeanne Alter winced at the bluntness of Artoria Alter’s comment, painful as a club upside the head. Mary Anning, for her part, looked like she was about to jump into a pit and let herself be buried to become a fossil herself.
“You have committed a grave offense against the king by running into me as you have, and touching me without my permission…” At this point, Jeanne Alter was quite sure Mary Anning was about to cry. “Yet you have no prospects with which to offer up and earn my forgiveness. How… disappointing.”
Jeanne Alter then watched on in bewilderment as Artoria Alter outstretched her arm, resting her hand against Mary Anning’s neck. “Well… I suppose village girls such as yourself still have… something… you can use to whet my appetite.”
At that, Mary Anning’s blush returned in full force, spreading across the entirety of her face as she gave a smile overflowing with nerves.
Artoria Alter let her hand slowly drift away from Mary Anning’s neck, leaving the woman to crumple at the loss of touch, and reached into a gap in her armour, pulling out a napkin and dry-erase marker. Pulling the cap off with her teeth, Artoria Alter scribbled down a number, before standing up and throwing the napkin down on the ground, in front of Mary Anning.
“You shall come to that room number come evening,” Artoria Alter commanded. “If you do so and offer yourself up to your king, the one for whose sake you even exist… perhaps then you shall earn my forgiveness for your previous disrespect.”
As Mary Anning let out a long, flustered wheeze, Artoria Alter turned on her heels, and marched off without a moment spent even looking at Mary Anning’s reaction.
Jeanne Alter followed behind Artoria Alter, gritting her teeth. As the two walked out of earshot as the flustered mess still sitting on the ground, Jeanne spoke up.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Artoria Alter turned, simply looking Jeanne Alter over with a steely glare.
“I fail to see the problem here. That woman clearly desired me. I am the king. I am free to discourage or return that attraction as I wish.”
“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb with me! In case you’ve forgotten, that room you’ve chosen to invite that bitch back to happens to be MINE TOO.”
Artoria Alter stopped at that, not saying a thing. Her face stayed level as she stayed still for a few moments.
Until her mouth opened ever so slightly, lips curling up into a small smile anyone less familiar with Artoria Alter wouldn’t have seen. “Are you envious, mad dog?”
Jeanne Alter snarled. “You fucking wish!”
“Although… I can’t help but wonder who you are envious of…” Artoria Alter continued. “I am magnanimous, however. You are free to join, if you desire. That woman appeared to have a type for those with draconic features, perhaps you being a so-called ‘Dragon Witch’, shall prove enough to meet those standards.”
Jeanne Alter, for just a moment, had thoughts enter her head, of her sharing a bed with Artoria Alter and this other new Servant. Of a redheaded woman thrashing beneath her, as well as her roommate lying on top of her, looking her in the eye with her usual cold, emotionless look.
And as she did, her pale face flared red, and the air around her heated as if about to light fire.
“A-As if I’d want your sloppy seconds, you disgusting woman!” Jeanne Alter shouted, stopping in place as she balled her fists.
Artoria Alter, for her part, simply let out a hum of acknowledgement as she kept walking away, eyes faintly glittering with anticipation of the night that awaited her.
